


Bait and Switch

by HotMolasses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Also murder without plot, Blood, Blow Job, Canon-Typical Violence, Hand Job, Jealousy, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Not smart, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, don't make Hannibal jealous, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: “I told you I was married.” Will said, his eyes dark with lust of another kind now, the kind that made Hannibal’s heart sing.  “The introduced you to my husband.  But that didn’t seem to bother you.”“I…I…thought, I thought you wanted, um.  You were flirting with me!”Hannibal tsked in his ear.“He flirted with the entire crowd all night.” Hannibal said.  “Those with class politely stepped away.  You, however, went after what was not yours.”Phillipe sputtered for a moment, wanting to squirm but being held still by the point of the knife Will held under his chin.“This was a trap?” he spat, his eyes glaring angrily at Will, but Will was no longer paying any attention to him.  His gaze was locked to Hannibal’s, their attention solely upon each other, the rest of the world fading into the background.





	

* * *

 

             “What’s the worst possible offense a person can commit, to you?” Will asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.  Some of the most expensive wine in France was being served at the gala they were attending, and still Will was drinking whiskey.

 

              “Other than not appreciating the fine art and culture that surrounds them?” Hannibal said, flicking his eyes to Will’s drink, attempting to look annoyed, though his face was mixed with too much adoration to pull it off.

 

              “I appreciate your ass in a fine suit, if that counts.”

 

              Hannibal gave Will a raised eyebrow and turned to look out at the crowd, examining each of the guests, giving Will’s question some serious thought.

 

              “Infidelity.” he said, finally.

 

              “Cheaters are the lowest of the lowlifes.” Will agreed.

 

              “Unforgivable.”

 

              “The worst.”

 

              Will then tipped his glass back and swallowed down the last of his liquor, deposited his empty glass in Hannibal’s free hand, and left him staring with interest as he walked off into the crowd.  He watched Will appearing to admire the fine art that lined the walls, while his attention was actually on reading the people who passed near him.  Hannibal already recognized the intent behind Will’s demeanor; the way his ears perked as he listened to the voices around him, the way his eyes shifted to the subtle motions of hands and bodies and faces.  His empathy was on high alert, his attention taking in every detail in order to discern the personalities and intent of each person who passed him, searching.

              A smile too pleased for Hannibal to completely suppress pricked at the corner of his lips.

              Will was hunting.

              Hannibal watched him from a distance, softly placing the empty whiskey glass on a cocktail table while he sipped his wine.  Of course he knew better than to stare, but found himself doing so a bit too often.  Will was incredible at blending into a crowd; a trait he’d never bothered to develop until after their courtship began, but one which he excelled quite well at.  The way he tilted his head to the side when talking with a shyer woman, the way he held his shoulders broad and straight when her possessive boyfriend came over, the way he acquiesced to the man without actually giving up any of his ground.

              Watching him was akin to watching the finest of ballets; Will Graham was the most profound work of art to ever grace the Earth, and Hannibal had his pleasures all to himself.  He had to lift his wine glass to his lips to hide his pleased smirk. 

              Will continued talking with the crowd, flicking his eyelids downward, tipping his head to the side, showing off his gorgeous curls.  Everyone wanted to talk with him.  He was gorgeous to look at, his voice beautiful to listen to, and he knew it.  Eventually, one of the conversationalists stayed a bit too long; then longer, monopolizing Will’s conversation to the point that other people started to drift away.  Will gave him all his attention, laughing a little more than he should have at his jokes, combing his fingers through his hair in a way that was a bit too sensuous.

              Then Hannibal caught a sentence on Will’s lips from even across the room, perhaps because he was staring at them, but the words were easy enough to read: “I am married, you know.”

              The sentence seemed to make the man slink closer to Will, rather than deterring him, and Hannibal felt a flash of anger.  He clutched the stem of his wine glass tightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.  Oh, Will was most certainly hunting, and he was ensuring that Hannibal was going to greatly enjoy this kill.  He watched the man lean in and whisper something into Will’s ear.  Will tilted his head back and almost _giggled_ , and Hannibal let his scowl appear on his face.

              Will slid his fingers down the man’s arm and entwined them in his hand.  He then pulled him across the floor, the chatter of his babbling voice reaching Hannibal’s ears.

              “You simply _must_ meet my husband.” Will said, pulling the man closer until they reached the table.  Will reached Hannibal and their eyes locked for just a moment.  In them, Hannibal saw _fire_.  They were going to _destroy_ this pig; tear him to bloody shreds and feast upon his body for a week.  The thought set Hannibal’s heart racing. 

              “Darling, this is Phillipe.” Will said, introducing them, letting his hand slide from Phillipe’s far too slowly, their fingers lingering in much to sensuous a manner. 

              “Pleasure to meet you.” Hannibal said, lifting his wine glass.

              “You as well, sir.” Phillipe said with a fake smile.

              “He’s visiting from London.” Will said, flashing Phillipe a coy smile.  “I’ve never been to London.”

              Phillipe unabashedly returned Will’s flirtatious smile, his eyes flicking from him to Hannibal’s scowling face, then back to Will again with an even bigger grin.

              _He’s more interested in me than he is in you_ was written all over him.

              It took more of Hannibal’s self-control than he was comfortable with to keep from reaching across the table and snapping the pig’s neck.

              “Oh, I have lots of pictures of London.” Phillipe said, pulling his phone from his pocket.  He began showing Will amateur photos that were mostly of himself, with very little London to be had.  Will leaned his head in, far too close than was proper, and Phillipe responded by doing the same.  Hannibal feigned growing more bored by the moment, until he finished his wine and set it down on the table.

              “I’m going to admire the art, darling.” he said.  “Let me know when you’ve finished.”

              “Mmm-hmm.” Will said, pretending to be deeply engrossed in Phillipe’s phone.

              Hannibal walked off slowly into the crowd and the directly to the exit, where he got into their car and sped home at an unadvisable speed, his rage building as he drove.

              He didn’t need to wait long.  Not twenty minutes later, and he heard the sound of Will’s bubbling laughter echoing through their house as he flirted with Phillipe in the foyer.

              “No, not upstairs; I don’t want him to suspect.  We’ll use the guest bed in the basement.”

              Hannibal was already dressed in what Will lovingly referred to as his “murder clothes”; a cheap shirt and slacks from a chain store, the kind that gave Hannibal catharsis to burn.  Will wouldn’t have time to change; he would be getting blood all over his finely tailored suit, and Hannibal felt a rush of heat in his blood at the idea.

              He hid behind the stairs when he heard the basement door open.  The first set of footsteps were unfamiliar, followed by Will’s sure, steading gait, blocking off their prey’s route of escape.  He heard the soft click of Will locking the door and imagined him sliding the key into his pocket.  There was no longer any way out.

              About halfway down, once the unfinished nature of the basement became apparent to Phillipe, Hannibal heard the hesitation in his steps. 

              “It’s just through the workshop, on the other side.” Will said, his voice as reassuring as the light of an angler fish was to its meal.  Phillipe stepped down to the stone floor, his eyes squinting as he tried to peer into the dim light of the basement, eyeing the workbench which was covered with knives and blades and saws, but lacked the typical tools that should normally be found there.

              By the time he realized that the dark stains on the floor and walls were blood, it was too late for him.  Hannibal emerged from the shadows and had the satisfaction of seeing his shocked and terrified eyes before he wrapped one arm around his throat and grabbed his right wrist to twist behind Phillipe’s back, pulling him in close.  He struggled, swinging his free elbow back to hit Hannibal in the chest, but that sort of move was expected and Hannibal stepped to the side.

              Will walked slowly towards the workbench and perused their blade collection, looking for just exactly the right knife to kill this one with.  Hannibal’s eyes locked onto his lover, the squirming thing in his arms a mere nuisance in the back of his mind as his heart glowed with the beauty that he beheld.  Will picked up one of his favorite hunting knives and walked back slowly towards Hannibal and the struggling animal.

              “I would hold still, if I were you.” Will said, pulling the flat part of the blade gently across his palm, demonstrating just how familiar with the weapon he was.  Phillipe stilled in Hannibal’s arms, his heart racing like a caught mouse.

              “I don’t know what you two are into, but I’m not down for this creepy shit; let me go.”

              Will walked slowly until he was within two feet of Phillipe.  The pig tried again to squirm away, but he was out of shape, and Hannibal was in top physical condition.

              Will lifted the point of the blade up to Phillipe’s chin, and then he became very still.

              “I told you I was married.” Will said, his eyes dark with lust of another kind now, the kind that made Hannibal’s heart sing.  “The introduced you to my husband.  But that didn’t seem to bother you.”

              “I…I…thought, I thought you wanted, um.  You were flirting with me!”

              Hannibal tsked in his ear.

              “He flirted with the entire crowd all night.” Hannibal said.  “Those with class politely stepped away.  You, however, went after what was not yours.”

              Phillipe sputtered for a moment, wanting to squirm but being held still by the point of the knife Will held under his chin. 

              “This was a _trap_?” he spat, his eyes glaring angrily at Will, but Will was no longer paying any attention to him.  His gaze was locked to Hannibal’s, their attention solely upon each other, the rest of the world beginning to fade into the background.  With a nearly imperceptible motion Will nodded.  Hannibal removed his arm from Phillipe’s neck, and before he had time to react, Will slashed.

              The flick of his wrist was confident and practiced.  The slash was deep, slicing through the trachea and both arteries in one motion.  Blood sprayed from the wound and Will closed his eyes and let it cover him.  Red droplets and gushing fountains covered him; his face, his hair, his chest, his suit.  He tilted his head back in euphoria and held out his arms, the blood of their enemy pouring over him in glorious death.

              The blood poured down their prey’s front and coated Hannibal’s arms as he wrapped them around its stomach to keep it from falling in the dirt.  Will reached forward and together they carried it to the slaughtering table.  Will placed the knife back in its place and moved to pick up another to begin the dissection, but Hannibal had had enough of watching another touch his Will.

              He grabbed Will’s shoulders and twisted him to face him, crushing his lips to Will’s in a growl.  Will moaned and turned to lean into him, and Hannibal wrapped his arms around his back, clutching Will to him as he devoured his mouth.  He pushed until Will lost his balance and stumbled back the few feet to the wall, where Hannibal crushed him to the cement with his body, lapping at Will’s face with open-mouthed kisses and tongue, drinking the blood from his skin, taking him, marking him.

              “You are _mine_.” he snarled, crushing his chest to Will’s, pinning him to the wall.  When he pushed in close he felt Will’s erection and a delighted, possessive grin flashed across his face.

              “And you know it.”

              He ground his hips forward and Will groaned, the feel of his arousal sparking Hannibal’s own.  He moved his lips down to lick over Will’s throat, drinking in the blood, sucking in his skin.  Will’s hands slid over Hannibal’s shoulders and moved to undo the buttons of his cheap shirt, but Hannibal grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall.

              “Oh no, your hands have done enough wandering tonight.”

              He felt the swallow in Will’s throat as he kissed over his Adam’s apple, letting his teeth graze his skin there, reminding them both what he was capable of doing with those teeth.  Will shuddered beneath him, his hips bucking into Hannibal’s growing erection.  Hannibal shoved both of Will’s wrists above his head and pinned them with a single hand, sliding the other across his cheek, smearing the blood.  He trailed his fingers down Will’s throat while still sucking the other side, kneading his lips in between Will’s neck and shoulder, watching his ears bloom red.

              He slid his hand down to Will’s erection and cupped it, pressing his palm hard against it, and listened satisfactorily to Will’s long, deep groan.  He bucked recklessly into Hannibal’s hand, who slowly continued to rub him, teasing him with his palm and his tongue.

              He slid his lips up to Will’s ear while he stroked over the bulge in Will’s slacks.

              “I am a very dangerous man to make jealous, Will.” he whispered, letting his lips brush over the shell of Will’s ear as he spoke.  Will’s moan sounded downright whorish.  It sent sparks of fire through Hannibal’s veins. 

              Without bothering to undo Will’s belt, Hannibal pulled the zipper of his slacks down and slid his hand in, pulling Will’s erection free into the cool air of their basement.  Keeping Will pressed to the wall with the weight of his body he began to stroke, slowly, teasing, bringing his thumb up to stroke once over the head only to take it away again.  Will groaned and his eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting to the side as Hannibal sucked on his neck, worrying his flesh in his teeth, bruising him, marking him.

              “Should I bite?  Should I show you just how mine you are?” he purred.  He felt Will’s response in the swell of his dick against his palm.  Without hesitation he closed his teeth, knowing just the right amount of pressure so as not to break the skin.  Will cried out, his whimper making him squirm, his voice shaking with arousal.  Hannibal continued to stroke him, working him harder and harder, speeding up a little until Will’s head was swollen and purple, then slowing down again.

              “Ahhh…mmmm.” Will said, his chin quivering with need.  He jerked his hips, trying to encourage Hannibal to increase his pace, but Hannibal was relentless in his slowness.  He felt drops of pre-cum as they slid down Will’s shaft and used them to slick his palm, causing Will to groan again.  His head fell back against the wall and he bucked even harder, sweat glistening on his skin as his heavy breaths turned to pants, his lungs heaving with desire.

              Hannibal slowed his pace again, becoming little more than a tease, and Will whimpered into his ear, turning his face to press against the side of Hannibal’s cheek.

              “Hannibal, _please_.” he begged, and while Hannibal greatly enjoyed the sound of Will begging him for sex, that wasn’t his goal tonight.

              “I am merely repaying you the torture you gave to me earlier tonight.” Hannibal said.  “I had to watch you flirt with a pig and restrain myself from strangling it right then.”

              He felt Will’s eyelids droop half-closed against his cheek, and Will leaned into him then, his smile pressed to Hannibal’s neck.

              “I was only working you up so you could enjoy the end more.” Will said, his voice honey that poured into Hannibal’s veins.  He tilted his head to the side and spoke into Will’s ear.

              “As am I.”

              He heard Will groan, and felt his body relent to him, then.  Will relaxed and stopped struggling; stopped bucking his hips, and let Hannibal have his way.  He succumbed to Hannibal then, his eyes rolling back in his head as the flush rose to his cheeks and bloomed all the way to the tips of his ears.  Hannibal stroked him at a steady, slow pace, every now and then bringing his thumb up to tease over the head, testing its swollenness, measuring Will’s level of arousal. 

              He had Will so desirous now that a near steady stream of ejaculate was leaking from him, the warmth of it coating Hannibal’s fingers as their bodies pressed together.  When he next teased his thumb over the head Will whimpered, the sound alighting on his ears as Will surrendered to him.  He slid his entire palm up to stroke over the head, making Will’s body convulse from the sensation, until he parted his lips in a pleasured moan of agony.

              “Hannibal, please.” he whispered, his first such utterance in over ten minutes; revealing a man with great restraint who had now reached his limit.

              “You did eventually allow me satisfaction.” Hannibal purred, and slowly sank to his knees, moving his free hand up between Will’s legs to press against his scrotum through his slacks.  When he breathed over the tip of Will’s aching erection, his love shuddered, a soft cry echoing from his lips.  Hannibal smiled and opened his own, letting the heat of his mouth surround the crown of Will’s cock. 

              Will screamed and his hands flew to Hannibal’s hair, his muscles pushing Hannibal’s head down onto him.  Groaning from Will’s forcefulness Hannibal swallowed him into his mouth and sealed his lips, sucking hard while Will bucked up into him, fast and rough and reckless.

              It was seconds before he released, his scream echoing off the basement walls, the taste of him flooding Hannibal’s mouth.  He became lost in the pleasure of his lover, his tongue at once taking and receiving, the flavor that washed over him one of the few delicacies he would ever taste that he had not concocted in his kitchen.

              When Hannibal had finished his meal, he gently sucked over Will’s oversensitive organ, cleaning every last drop from him, before rising to his feet to meet Will Graham’s debauched, satisfied face.

              He gave him a smirk, his curls plastered to his sweaty, bloodied face.

              “You are a bastard.” Will said.  “I love you.”

              Hannibal crushed their lips together roughly, making Will taste himself, revering in the feel of his fingers as they stroked through his hair.

              They pulled back and both panted, their foreheads resting together until they caught their breath.

              “Now I believe we are even steven.” Hannibal said, and he watched a smirk prick up at the corner of Will’s lips.

              “Oh, not even close.” Will replied, his body slinking down until he was upon his knees, Hannibal’s palms resting on the wall as he watched Will Graham reach up to pull down his fly.  “Now it’s my turn.”

 

 

             


End file.
